by Erin Noelle
He stalks toward me with his chest puffed out as if he’s going to physically intimidate me, and I feel Adam stiffen next to me. I stride forward to meet him, showing him I’m not backing down. I’ve got a good three inches on him, and I work out regularly.
“As of yesterday, when your mom said ‘I do’ to me, this place became half my house. You need to learn that,” he pokes his finger in my chest for emphasis, “real quick, boy. Celeste has never once mentioned you paying one dollar toward the mortgage here, something I’ve been doing for nearly a year now.”
I knock his hand away and lean my face down into his, the fury building rapidly inside me. “I’m not your fucking boy, and yes, I’m well aware you were living here, fucking my mom while you were still married to someone else. Says a lot for your fucking character, asshole.”
“Gray…don’t,” my mom warns grimly.
“Don’t what, Mom?” I peer over at her to find her face stone cold. “Don’t let some lying, cheating piece of shit disrespect me in my own house?”
“Mark is my husband, Gray. This is his house now too.” She walks up to stand next to Mark, a united front against me and the silent Adam. “We’ve spent the last fourteen hours at the airport waiting for our honeymoon flight they finally cancelled about an hour ago, and neither of us is too pleased to see we haven’t been gone a day and you’re already throwing parties in our house…which is very disrespectful of you, I might add.”
“So that gives him a right to talk to me like that and tell me I need to leave?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes, it does. So please, do as he asks. Clean up and then go stay over at Adam’s or Jess’ until we all cool off. We can talk about this later. I’ll drive you if you’ve both been drinking.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Mom. If you make me leave right now, I’m gone for good…not coming back. Your choice.”
Truth is, I don’t want to stay here right now anyway, but the alcohol’s making me a little more defiant and ornery than I usually am, and I want her to make a choice. I need to know where I stand in her life, damn it.
“Don’t make me choose, Gray. That’s not fair,” she states, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Fair is someplace you go to ride Ferris Wheels and eat funnel cakes, Mom,” I throw the words back at her she’s told me my whole life when I whined about fairness. “What’s it going to be? Him?” I swing my scowl over to Mark, who continues to fume with his arms crossed over his chest, and then back over to her. “Or me?”
With a faint shake of her head, she exhales loudly and says, “Go pack up your stuff, Gray.”
THE MINUTE MY HEAD HITS THE pillow, my cell phone starts ringing. Naturally.
Groaning, I grab my phone from my nightstand and check the caller ID to make sure it’s not someone with the wrong number. Adam’s name and picture appears, and suddenly I’m worried, like only a mother whose kid calls after midnight can be worried. In the span of a split second, a handful of different scenarios of why he’s calling this late flit through my mind, and none of them are good.
“Hey, sweetie. What’s going on?” I answer, pulling myself up to sitting, trying not to sound too alarmed.
“Mom, sorry to call so late, but I need you to come get me and Gray,” he says with obvious distress in his tone.
I’m already out of bed, grabbing and putting on the closest clothes I can find, as I continue talking. “No problem. Where are you?”
“We’re at Gray’s.”
“At Gray’s?” I stop dressing and ask, confused. “Why do you need me to come get y’all from there?”
Long ago, I’d told Adam if he ever needed me to come get him from somewhere, either because he’d had too much to drink or he found himself in a bad situation without a way out, I would drop everything and come, without getting upset or asking too many questions. However, hearing he’s over at Gray’s house, even though his car is here in the garage, doesn’t make any sense.
He sighs heavily into the phone. “I’ll explain more later, but we had a little party here, and Dad and Celeste didn’t end up leaving on their honeymoon, so they came home and freaked out. Gray and Dad got in a big argument, and Celeste kicked Gray out, but she won’t let him take his truck since he’s been drinking.”
“Okay, I’m on my way. I’ll text you when I’m outside.”
I hang up the phone, slide my feet in some flip-flops, and then hurry downstairs to grab my purse and keys, not even giving myself a second glance in the mirror. I’m out the door in less than two minutes.
The entire drive over to the house, I try my hardest to keep my emotions in check. I hope like hell I don’t see either Mark or Celeste. I’ve managed to avoid them—other than the divorce hearing, in which she decided to boldly show up to for some unknown reason—and I hope to keep it that way.
Pulling up in front of the house, I shift the Tahoe into park, text Adam that I’m here, and wait anxiously. Mere seconds later, the front door swings open, and first Adam rushes outside, followed by Gray carrying two suitcases, and finally Mark, who is right on their heels, screaming profanities I can hear through my windows.
In what’s probably not the smartest thing I’ve ever done, I throw open the car door and stomp around the front of it until I’m standing on their driveway with my hands on my hips. “Can’t you shut your mouth and go inside? You’re gonna wake the neighbors up and cause a scene.” I fume as Adam and Gray stop next to me.
“Cause a scene?” he scoffs, still approaching us. “Let me tell you about the scene I came home to a little while ago, with a bunch of drunk kids taking over my house and a nearly naked girl dancing on top of the furniture.”
Then, Celeste appears next to Mark, her eyes narrowed into tiny slits and her arms crossed over her chest. “What are you even doing here, Mia? This has nothing to do with you. Leave my property before I call the cops,” she threatens.
Stepping closer, so I’m only a few inches from her face, I seethe, “Fuck you, Celeste. My son is involved, so it’s got everything to do with me, and don’t you ever fucking preach to me about property, because you had no problem slithering your whore ass all over mine for years.”
“It’s not my fault you couldn’t keep your husband satisfied. He used to tell me all the time what a boring fuck you were,” she taunts.
My fist makes contact with her face before I can even think about it, and as she stumbles backward, losing her balance and landing flat on her ass, Mark scrambles over to her, and Adam grabs my arm to keep me from going after her again.
“You bitch! I’ll file charges!” she shrieks, cupping her bloody nose.
I release an evil laugh; the sound of my voice doesn’t even sound like mine. “It’ll be the best money I’ve ever spent,” I sneer.
Mark, still on his knees next to his wife, looks up at me and shakes his head with disbelief. “You and the boys need to leave now, Mia. You’ve done enough.”
With a nod, I rip my arm out of Adam’s grasp and spin on my heel back toward the SUV. “Enough was when you ripped apart our family, Mark,” I call out over my shoulder. “Now, you’ve destroyed another. Great job.”
Gray throws his bags into the backseat as I slide into the driver’s seat and Adam climbs into the passenger side. As soon as all the doors are shut, I speed off down the street without any of us saying a word.
The silence continues as we pull into the garage and enter the house. Adrenaline continues to pump so fervently through my veins, my hands won’t stop shaking, and my thoughts whir by so quickly in my head I can’t focus on any one of them. I’m not sure what in the hell just took hold of me, but I kind of like it. I’ve always been a pushover, never one to stand up for myself, and damn if it didn’t feel amazing.
Adam and Gray go directly upstairs, without even saying goodnight, and I’m worried they’re upset with me, especially Gray for me punching his mom, but I decide to let it rest for tonight. We can discuss it tomorrow when we’ve all calmed down. And calm dow
n is exactly what I need to do…
I pour a healthy glass of wine before retreating to my own room, where I change back into my pajamas and collapse on the bed, my brain still a hazy mess. Propping myself up against the headboard with pillows, I turn the TV on and sip my wine, trying to relax, but failing miserably. After surfing through all five hundred plus channels twice and finding absolutely nothing to watch but infomercials, I push the off button, grab my glass, and head back downstairs to paint.
I’ve got a new piece in my mind and it’s going to involve a lot of angry red strokes.
I have no fucking idea what just happened. Tonight went from strange girl stripping on the coffee table, to an argument with my mom and Mark, to getting kicked out of my house, to my best friend’s mom punching my mom in the face. If I didn’t know better, I’d think we were filming for one of those crazy-ass reality shows or something. Shit like this didn’t happen in my life.
Except all of it really did happen.
And I have no idea what happens next.
After taking a quick shower, I lie down on the bed in the guest room at Adam’s house and stare at the ceiling, with the images of the night replaying over and over again, and the next thing I know, I’m laughing. Laughing hard. So hard my eyes begin to tear up and I have to bury my face in the pillow to not be heard.
I haven’t a clue why I’m laughing, but it seems the only thing I can do at this point. All I can figure is my brain is overwhelmed by all of the data, it’s simply shutting down and using laughter as its coping mechanism. Who fucking knows, but I’m apparently not going to get any sleep anytime soon.
Tiptoeing down the stairs in an attempt to not disturb Adam or his mom, I open the fridge and search for something to drink. Thankfully, there are several beers on the top shelf, so I grab a couple before turning around to take them back upstairs. That’s when I hear something coming from the dining room. It sounds like someone singing.
Quietly, I creep over to the door connecting the two rooms and peek my head in, completely mesmerized by the sight before me.
The old dining room has been totally transformed into an art studio, complete with an entire wall of built-in shelves filled with supplies, track lighting, a drafting table, and several easels erected all around the room. Numerous paintings are spread out, some on the floor, while others hang on the walls, and much to my surprise, they’re really good, just not what I expected…not at all.
Most of the subjects in the paintings are people—faceless, naked people to be precise—in what can only be described as erotic arrangements and provocative poses. Even more surprisingly, none of the pieces are vulgar or offensive; in fact, on the contrary, they’re all artistically delicate and subtle, yet extremely alluring and tantalizing.
However, the one that really catches my eye is the one being worked on at this exact moment.
With her back to me, Mia has no idea I’m there, and I’m fascinated watching her work as she attacks the canvas with such vigor. Dressed only in a tank top and clingy yoga pants with her hair piled in a messy knot on top of her hair, she’s got headphones in her ears—apparently listening to some Imagine Dragons, based on her off-key lyrics about being radioactive—while she strokes the brush over and over again, creating a breathtaking image right before my eyes.
How did I never know she was so incredibly talented? And how did I never realize how sensual of a woman she is?
As each second passes, the earlier events of the night seep away from my forethoughts as I become more enthralled and even more turned on by the enigma that is Mia Sullivan. At one point, she stops, and I’m afraid she’s going to turn around and catch me spying on her, but instead, she simply changes brushes and goes back to work, picking right up with the music only she can hear, now singing about her demons.
Feeling a little bit like a creeper with two beers in my hands and a raging hard on in my shorts, I silently slip out of the room before she can discover me, and make my way back upstairs, only to jack off to visions of her for the second time in as many nights.
I may have a problem.
BANANA PANCAKES MAKE EVERYTHING BETTER. Well, at least that’s what I’m hoping for as I stop off at the grocery store to gather all of the necessary ingredients after my gym session.
When I decided to do my best Laila Ali impression last night, I wasn’t thinking about anything except shutting Celeste up, which I succeeded in doing, but at the cost of possibly pissing off Adam and Gray and really pissing off my knuckles.
Waking up with a bruised hand this morning made my workout far from fun. I could barely wrap my swollen fingers around any of the bars or grips without grimacing, but I managed to get a session in, nonetheless. I’m only hoping it won’t effect my painting much, because I really want to get back to the piece I started last night.
As I enter the house, the sound of the shower lets me know at least one of the guys is up, and hopefully by the time I get this coffee brewing and bacon frying, the aromas will lead them both downstairs with hungry bellies, smiling faces, and forgiving minds.
I turn the radio on as I ready the kitchen for the feast I’m about to prepare, and begin to dance around the kitchen as I get lost in what I’m doing. It’s been a long time since I’ve cooked…too long actually. I used to love spending time in the kitchen, creating new dishes and putting inventive spins on old ones, but when Mark left, I felt like I was only cooking for me since Adam was rarely home at meal times, so I just stopped.
It takes less than five minutes from the time I drop the first piece of bacon into the grease before I hear two sets of feet bounding down the stairs, followed by two bright and eager faces entering the kitchen.
“Good morning, Mom,” Adam says, planting a kiss on my cheek as he grabs a mug from the cabinet next to me and then walks over to the coffeemaker.
“Mornin’, Ms. Su—Mia,” Gray corrects himself, stepping up next to me and snagging a mug for himself. He leans in to kiss me on the cheek, as Adam just did and as he’s done many times before, but hesitates for a split-second before briskly brushing his lips right above my jawline and then hurrying away.
I assume his apprehension is because he’s upset at me over what I did last night, and rightfully so; after all, I did cold cock his mom in the face. Needing to address the situation, no matter how much I wish we could all pretend it never happened, I put a smile on my face and set the whisk down next to the bowl of pancake batter.
“Good morning, boys. I hope you’re both hungry. I may’ve gone a little overboard at the store this morning.” I chuckle softly as I look around the grocery explosion on the countertops. “But before we eat, I think we should address the gigantic elephant in the room.”
With coffees in hand, they both sit down on the barstools around the kitchen island and look over at me, waiting for me to continue. Leaning up against the sink, I take a deep breath and then begin the spiel I’d been reciting in my head all morning.
“As you both know, I never condone fighting for any reason. It’s a fool’s daft way to deal with an issue. It almost never brings resolve, and usually only causes bigger issues in the end. Last night, I allowed a bunch of pent-up frustration get the better of my emotions, and I lost my temper. I shouldn’t have done what I did.”
I pause for another breath, and before I can start up with the second part, Gray pipes up.
“Fuck that,” he exclaims, pounding his fist on the counter. “Excuse my language, Mia, but that’s bullshit. Mark and my mom were both way out of line in all kinds of ways last night. They want to act like assholes and cut everyone else out of their life, then fine, but when the shiny newness of their relationship wears off and they find they’re all alone and miserable, they’ll only have themselves to blame.”
“Gray, sweetie, I know you’re upset about what happened, but that’s your mom, and no matter what, she loves you,” I contend.
He takes a long drink and shakes his head, his dark eyes blazing with anger. “She loves me so dam
n much she chose a cheating asshole over her own damn son and kicked me out of the only house I’ve ever known. Fuck her.”
My heart breaks for him and how he must be feeling. Though it’s not the exact same, I know how it feels for the person you would die for to turn their back on you and choose someone else. Betrayed and abandoned, and it hurts like a motherfucker.
Adam remains quiet, as he usually does in intense moments or during confrontations, but the distress on his face is evident in his eyes. Seeing him agonize over any of this only makes me hate Mark and Celeste more for doing this to all of us.
Turning my attention back to Gray, I smile meekly and shrug my shoulders. “I can’t change what’s happened or the decisions others have made, but if you need a place to live, you’re more than welcome to take over the guest room as your own for as long as you like.”
“Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.” His face brightens a bit. “I know Adam has put some applications in for some internships around town, and I need to do the same before classes start up again in a couple months. It’s just…I’ve only been home for like two days and everything’s already crazy.”
“Not to worry, hun.” I walk around the island and position myself between the two of them. Wrapping my arms around their shoulders, I pull them into my body for a hug and chastely kiss each of them on the top of their heads. “I think we should all relax today and enjoy a big breakfast.”
“You making banana pancakes?” Gray asks, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Always for you, Gray.”
After devouring the delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and of course, Mia’s special pancakes, Adam drives me over to my mom’s house in order to get a few more things from my room and my truck from the garage. Once we ensure she and Mark aren’t there, he drops me off in the driveway, still not having said much this morning.